Confessions of a Serial Egg Donor

Growing by nearly 20 percent annually, the business of egg donors is exploding in the United States. Demand for young women’s eggs keeps outstripping the supply in an ever-accelerating pace, prompting the compensation to skyrocket – from $250 per donation in 1984 to $100,000 in some cases today. Every year more outlets are created to satisfy this demand. These infertility businesses are at war to attract top donors, virtually unsupervised by either government or private association. In fact, they have established their own guidelines. And their primary targets are vulnerable college girls…

Confessions of a Serial Egg Donor tells the true and disturbing story of how an independent college girl got so caught up by the tens of thousands of dollars she was making on her eggs her body shut down. With brutal honesty, always applying her own brand of humor, she will describe exactly what it was like to be a twelve-time egg donor, including how the broker of her eggs betrayed her viciously in the end.

"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.

About the Author:

Julia Derek is a writer who lives in New York City. Her eggs are no longer available to the public.

The tears have been coming for hours now. Like on so many other days, they just keep coming and coming. It is a mad stream of annoying wetness. I'm sure they will continue forever, that no part of this lunacy will ever stop. I want to scream out loud. Or kick the wall if I thought it would help. Pull my hair out. But none of it works. I know because I have tried all three.

How did I end up like this? This was not the way I had planned it. Or at least, this is not what I had expected would happen. Not even in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would find myself in this state, lying in bed for days and days, unable to move, my insides drying out, my head aching with such brutality that something up there must have broken. I, the Invincible; I, Superwoman; I, the person who was naturally immune against any diseases or physical aches, who thought people were wimps when they took a week off work because they had caught the flu, who once couldn't remember for sure whether PMS was the abbreviation of one of those so-called women's ailments or if it was really a new rap artist.

It seems as if the despair won't ever go away, that it will only grow and grow until there is nothing else left and it has taken over my entire being. This despair is enormously dark and big, yet shrinking smaller and smaller, making it hard for me to breathe. It is as if somebody has pulled a trash bag over my head and is closing it tightly around my neck. It is so unbearable that some days I find myself begging to die, I find myself praying to whomever is in charge of those kinds of things, this somebody or something that apparently isn't planning to make whatever the fuck is happening to me stop, to please let me die. Anything but this, anything but another minute of having to live in this hell.

Of course, the worst part of all of this is the feeling that I'm going insane. Completely nuts, loony bin caliber crazy. And every week this feeling is getting worse. It certainly looks like I'm losing to the people around me. I don't blame them. I really don't... But, you see, I know I'm not going crazy. The one thing that keeps me from going truly crazy is this very knowledge, the knowledge that it is something else that's making me feel all these huge, horrible feelings; it is something else that's making me lose all control. I know there is a single and definite reason to why this is happening to me - and that I'm not it.

SHE has tried to convince me otherwise. In her Southern drawl, poking away at my insecurities like a defense lawyer pokes away at the plaintiff's character before a jury, she told me, "You know why this is happening, Julia, you know what I'm talking about. Everything in your life is not the way it should be. You know what I mean. You have some problems. And that's WHY you feel this way."

I couldn't believe what she was saying. She was actually trying to make me believe that this monster about to take me over so completely was created by ME, and me alone. It was only when she had said this that I realized that she was right, that I indeed had a problem. One very serious problem.

She was not going to do what had to be done for me to get out of this.